


Signs

by SomewhereFictional



Series: He Calls It Research [3]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch- rpf, British Actor RPF
Genre: AU, Almost talking about feelings, Alternate Universe, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Original Characters - Freeform, Pre-Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Slow Burn, because he does have them even if he doesn't say, near miss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFictional/pseuds/SomewhereFictional
Summary: Benedict's having doubts because filming's been delayed again. Ellen, of course, notices.Note: the issues mentioned with filming are fictional. Because this is a fictional story. I have no idea how smoothly filming for series one of Sherlock went, but for the purposes of this series, there had to be a reason the ride-along was extended beyond its initial month.
Series: He Calls It Research [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135925
Kudos: 1





	Signs

If anyone had told him that he would spend Valentine's Day in a police station, he wouldn't have believed them. Though even now, physically sitting at a desk in the incident room of CID, Benedict was still having trouble accepting the reality.

He knew Ellen couldn't accept it either- though she didn't much care about why he was still around, only that he was.

He hadn't set out to stick around this long, might not have if there hadn't been a delay with the set being built down in Cardiff, which in turn meant the whole shooting schedule had been postponed.

The arrangement to follow Ellen and her team around had only meant to be for one month, but it had turned into two when the director Mark and Steven had picked had left them for Hollywood, and then three after one of the backers had backed out, and here he was six months later, still tagging along on cases and watching Ellen and her team deal with the worst of humanity on a daily basis because of yet another problem that Benedict was beginning to think might be a sign from the universe.

Maybe he wasn't supposed to play Sherlock Holmes.

"Here."

A steaming mug appeared in front of his face, and Benedict blinked, thrown for a moment as he'd become lost in contemplation, so hadn't noticed that he'd been approached.

Ellen was waiting on the other side of his desk, impatience slowly starting to creep into her features.

"You're supposed to take it and thank me."

Benedict took it, almost spilled it when his hand touched hers. His face felt hot when he finally had the coffee in his hands; he seemed to be getting embarrassed a lot recently around her, and usually over something simple, like this.

"Thanks," he said. "Sorry. I zoned out."

Ellen shrugged. "Happens. You cracked the case, then?"

There was no bite to the question, but it reminded Benedict of the fictional character he'd been thinking about seconds ago, and he found himself questioning again if he shouldn't just pack it in before it was too late.

Martin wouldn't be happy, and he'd be letting Mark and Steven down, but still. He'd never seen so many issues with a project in all his career.

If they weren't signs that the whole thing was doomed to fail, then what where they?

"Benedict."

He'd tuned out again.

"What's got into you?" 

"Sorry."

That was another thing that was different now. She called him Benedict rather than his last name. When had that changed?

Ellen rolled her eyes. "Is this you feeling miserable for yourself again?"

Benedict raised an eyebrow in question, Ellen's question unexpected and taking him by surprise. What did she mean by 'again'?

Surely he hadn't been obvious in his doubt over his career choices?

"You've been moping about all week," she confirmed. "Which is exactly what you did when that director bailed, and then again when the financial backer got cold feet, and every other time something happened that meant your super original project got postponed." She shrugged. "It wasn't too hard to put the pieces together."

"Wasn't it?" He muttered, dropping his attention to the desk between them.

He'd been sure he was acting normally, hadn't wanted anyone to know that he didn't believe he was the right person to play such a world-renowned and loved character. But apparently he hadn't done such a good job.

Although, this was Ellen confronting him over his behaviour. Ellen whose job it was to notice things.

The conversation apparently wasn't over yet, as she dragged a chair over to join him at his desk and even put down her coffee.

"No, it wasn't. So what's going on?"

She was waiting expectantly for an explanation, expression devoid of amusement or anything else that suggested she wasn't taking this seriously.

Benedict released a breath, hesitated. He was half hoping that she would reconsider while he debated where to start and what to say, but he knew that wouldn't happen. She wasn't beyond skipping sleep to follow up on leads and alibis, and if she would do that, she would wait until he told her what she wanted to know.

"You were right," he said simply.

"You're getting cold feet?"

He nodded.

"Makes sense." Ellen picked up her coffee and took a sip. "But you wouldn't have agreed to the job in the first place if you didn't think you could do it. Right?"

"Right." She had a point.

"It's human to doubt yourself. But... if you want something bad enough, you can overcome anything."

Benedict waited until he could see her face clear before retorting, "Was that supposed to be a pep talk?"

She scowled, and whatever she had been thinking about a second ago was forgotten. "It was me telling you to get it together. I haven't heard a single crackpot theory off you all week. It's strange that you're quiet."

"My theories are nothing of the sort."

"Name one that was actually feasible."

Benedict thought for a few seconds. Then a few more. The truth was, he'd liked imagining up completely insane scenarios and may have gotten carried away with it a little. If he'd ever said anything helpful, he couldn't remember.

Ellen was smirking, justified. "See?"

"In my defence, nobody ever said I was here to be helpful."

"Remind me, what were you here for?"

She was looking at him, really, properly, looking at him, with amusement still in her face and her eyes shining, and Benedict was sure she knew he hadn't stuck around just for the cases. He could see it, that challenge, a silent dare to be honest and admit that he hadn't needed to stay after that first month had ended.

He swallowed, suddenly finding the room temperature hotter than it had been a couple of seconds ago.

How did she know? More to the point, what had he done to tip her off? Was it the coffee thing? It had to be. He'd need to start bringing his own if he couldn't handle the accidental brushing of hands like he was a teenager again with his first crush.

And saying she did know, that she'd figured it out, (which in all likelihood, she had, since she was sharp and clever, and wouldn't have taken very long to deduce the solution to his blushing and lack of direct eye contact), then what? He tells her everything? That he thinks she's amazing and gorgeous and crazy smart and his awe might have somehow turned into more?

Down the hall, a door is slammed, and a phone starts to ring, and when Benedict comes out of his thoughts, Ellen is talking to someone on her mobile, brow furrowed.

He missed his chance. The conversation, clearly, is over.


End file.
